


Nightmares and Secrets

by bethanyyerinn



Category: Pacific Rim (2013) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, BDSM, Chuck is only a side character you don't even see so..., Hermann is a Dom, Hermann's a sex god, M/M, Newt cooks, Newt is a Sub, No but really there is some plot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, but also porn, you know the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-16
Updated: 2013-12-16
Packaged: 2018-01-04 21:14:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1085759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bethanyyerinn/pseuds/bethanyyerinn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermann Gottlieb and Newton Geiszler both have secrets, and they both want to hide them from each other. Problem is, when you live with someone, it's kinda hard to keep secrets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing.
> 
> University AU: Hermann's 24 and Newt's 23. Kaiju attacks started when they were younger than they were in the canon.
> 
> M for smut that will be BDSM. Just a warning. If you don't like BDSM, this is not the story for you. At all. There will be a lot of it, if this goes the way I think it will. Also, TRIGGER WARNING for depictions of violence (the non-consensual kind). I didn't think it was enough to add the archive warning, but still wanted it known that violence will be a thing.

Hermann never thought a single person could annoy him so thoroughly.

It's not like most people didn't annoy him anyway, because most certainly they did, but this… this was a new form of torture via human contact.

And it was only made worse by the fact that he could never get away from it.

It all started when he decided to go to Stanford for his first PhD. Why he decided to go to America, he actually wasn't sure. For something different? He'd been all sorts of places already. Born in Germany, lived there for a while, then in London a good portion of his life. He got his degree in theoretical mathematics in Sweden, then a Master's in Japan (he'd gotten lucky when the Kaiju Onibaba attacked Tokyo instead of the city his school was in), so he'd experienced those places. He'd visited most of Europe, some of Asia and South America, even Africa. Sometimes for fun, or with family, but mostly to gather research on the Kaiju, which he was more interested in than he sometimes cared to admit. The United States was one of the only places he hadn't yet experienced in any form—he hadn't even met an American tourist. And if he hated it, he'd only get one little PhD there and then he could go elsewhere. He planned to get more than one, after all.

So off to California he went. First, of course, he had to have a flat mate. He didn't have the money to get a flat on his own, but he also didn't want to live in a coven of college aged people either, as he didn't much like anyone, let alone people his own age who were far too prone to parties and/or copious alcohol consumption and not nearly prone enough to cleaning and/or thinking.

He obviously went to the internet to find said flat mate. One that would not grate on his every nerve at every moment was preferable.

So he found someone that seemed perfect.

He was a doctorate student as well, for Biology of some sort. Good, none of that Humanities rubbish. A scientist like himself. Even one interested in the Kaiju. There was another similarity already.

Better yet, he spoke fluent German, as he was born in Germany—though he'd lived in America since he was five, he'd still been in Berlin long enough to learn German and was smart enough to retain it even after two decades.

Hermann was actually rather delighted. He was quite certain he couldn't have gotten luckier.

Oh, if only he'd known the truth.

No, if only Newton Geiszler had possessed the decency to put up a photograph. Then Hermann would have at least guessed the truth.

* * *

Hermann moved in before Newton, so he was quite comfortable on the pristine leather couch he'd brought with him when there was a knock.

His flat mate? He was supposed to be coming today… Granted, he was supposed to be here several hours ago, so how much could his word be trusted? Hopefully being tardy was not a frequent habit of his…

Then he opened the door and saw that it obviously was not his new flat mate. This man… well, he was far from a scientist, that was for sure. He was a bit shorter than Hermann, but his hair was styled in a way that made him two inches taller, sticking up like maybe he woke up that way, or stood in the wind a while, but more likely he'd put some effort in. He was in tight dark jeans, black boots, a white button up shirt with a skinny black tie over it that was obviously tied incorrectly, causing it to lie at a strange angle. Likely this was also on purpose.

But what one noticed before all that, before the glasses and the green eyes and the several-days-unshaved stubble, were the tattoos. Both his forearms, which were left uncovered by his shirt because the sleeves were rolled up, were collages of colour. It took a moment, but Hermann realised with a rolling in his stomach what the tattoos depicted.

Kaiju.

This man had tattooed Kaiju on his arms like they were something other than murderous beasts. Tattooing yourself at all seemed a strange, unsanitary, gross habit, but with Kaiju?

He'd heard of people like this before, the ones who liked the Kaiju or something, but he never thought he'd meet one, and had certainly never wanted to.

"Yes? What do you want?" asked Hermann, quite eager to get the strange man off his doorstep. Especially before his flat mate arrived.

"Um… Dude, Herms, it's me, Newt."

Hermann said absolutely nothing because there were so many things wrong with this sentence. Horrid slang, worse nicknames, it was spoken too loud, the voice itself was grating...

"Your new roomie," he specified, seeming to think that Hermann's silence was caused by incomprehension as opposed to utter horror. "Just wanted to make sure I had the right apartment before I started hauling my shit up those stairs." He started to look unsure when Hermann still didn't speak. "Dude… uh, you are Hermann, right?"

Hermann nodded stiffly to the question, though he'd half wanted to say no just to make the man go away.

"Uh… cool then. I'll just… get my stuff… are you usually this quiet? I guess that's cool and all, I can talk through any silence, I don't really care…"

Hermann stopped listening there, because he didn't need to hear anymore to know that Newton Geiszler, as opposed to his original assumptions, was his worst nightmare.

* * *

Hermann set rules immediately. You will not try to speak to me when I am working. You will not make noise past ten o' clock. You will not, liebe Gott, you will NOT call me 'Herms' ever again. And above all else, you will never go into my bedroom. EVER.

Newton broke said rules just as instantly.

In fact, Hermann was unsure if Newton was unable to follow directions or if annoying Hermann entertained him. Either was plausible, he figured.

He blasted rock music any time that Hermann didn't have the energy to shut it off, he talked through his problems aloud whether Hermann wanted to hear it or not, he called him 'Herms' half the time.

But luckily, any time he wanted to get into Hermann's room, he knocked, so Hermann could open the door a crack and walk out of it, because he didn't want Newton stumbling upon… well, any of the things he had hidden in his room. They were the one thing that Newton would never find out about if Hermann had a thing to say about it. That would be utterly humiliating. "Oh, little Herms is actually human with human urges and everything!" he'd yell. The indignity of it would be unbearable.

He considered moving out. But he couldn't find another person to share with now.

Which Newton liked to remind him, actually.

"Dude, you on Craig's List again? Do I suck that bad? Sorry, man, but you're stuck with me. No way you'll find a roommate when the semester's started."

"There must be a flat share somewhere in this confounded city."

"Nobody says flat, dude. This is an apartment, and we're roommates. We're in America. Do as we do."

Hermann never understood calling someone your 'roommmate' who does not, in fact, share your room. It would make a little more sense to say apartment mate, but he supposed that was too much of a mouthful. If they'd just say flat instead, it'd be easier. But he said none of that. Instead, he said, "Thus far, I find Americans amazingly irritating."

"Hey, don't judge all Americans on just me," he said with a grin, as if the insult were funny to him. Maybe it was. "Aw, come on Herms, lighten up."

"Don't call me that," Hermann snapped.

"Oh, whatever."

It was like that.

Constantly.

But, as Newton so kindly pointed out, Hermann was stuck. Unless he wanted to transfer, but he didn't mind the city or the school really. It was something different, which he wanted. Close to the Pacific, which was also desirable, considering he planned to have at least part of his dissertation talk about Kaiju.

It was just his flat mate—roommate, either way—he couldn't stand.

But at the same time… he wasn't completely loathsome.

He was quite as smart as Hermann had assumed he would be when they met on the internet. Impressively so—and impressing Hermann was very hard to do. He picked up on anything you gave him with ease. Hermann was nearly jealous, because his intellect was not nearly so flexible. And if Hermann was in a very good mood and Newton in a very quiet mood—both of which were infrequent—then the two could have very constructive conversations about their fields of study, or perhaps other areas of science.

Newton was also a surprisingly gifted chef, and to his merit, he still cooked enough for two even when Hermann was being especially cruel.

But even with these things, it didn't help them get along.

And as time passed, things only got worse, because their living room became their mutual working space—they both seemed to have something against working in the place where they slept—and they obviously were incapable of dealing with each other while working.

It was bad enough when the both of them just worked on laptops, but then it get far worse when Hermann got the six foot by eight foot rolling chalkboard he'd been wanting and Newton somehow got ahold of various remains—Hermann never bothered to ask if said remains were animal or human. Hermann suspected it was a mix of the two.

It went like this:

"You just splattered some of your—your—your bodily juices on my chalkboard!"

"Yeah, well the grating sound of your chalk against your chalkboard made me cringe while I was working with this spleen!"

"Come clean this up this instant!"

"Come over here and mend my fucking eardrums then!"

"No, you can't sit on my couch after working with those unsanitary samples!"

"Then where am I supposed to sit, Hermann?"

"ON YOUR OWN COUCH."

"I DON'T OWN ONE!"

" _THEN GET ONE, YOU UNCULTURED SWINE!_ "

" **OR YOU CAN GROW UP YOU BABY IN A SWEATER VEST!** "

It eventually came to the point where Hermann bought a roll of duct tape and separated the front room right down the middle. No crossing the line. Mostly it just made Newton angrier, but he did attempt not to cross it, which Hermann was grateful for. To show said gratitude, he even bought Newton a couch.

"Dude, this thing must have been my great grandma's or something. And grandma must have smoked a lot of weed."

"If you don't like it, take it back to the gentleman down the street with the gold tooth."

But Newton grinned. "Hell no man, I love it. It's got personality. Thanks Hermann."

Hermann blinked. "Erm… you're welcome, Newton."

"Hey, I called you Hermann, the least you can do is call me Newt."

"Not a chance."

"Hey, I thought I'd try. You hungry?"

"Famished."

So not every moment of the day was torture or anything.

But most moments were.


	2. Chapter 2

"Dear lord, Newton, look at the size of those!"

Newt grinned at Hermann's hilariously shocked face as he looked at the samples he was carefully taking out of his box.

"Pretty rad, right?" asked Newt.

"But what are they from, a whale?" Newt was about to tell him what they were really from—because no amount of illegality of how he got these organs was enough to keep him from telling Hermann about it—when Hermann figured it out. "Are those—" He was so appalled that he actually crossed over the sacred line of Hermann-ness to hiss in Newt's face, "are those Kaiju remains?"

Newt smiled. "Hell yeah, dude. I—"

"I am not your dude," Hermann interrupted, but Newt ignored it.

"—got them off of some black market dude. Apparently people harvest the organs all the time because they've got useful shit in their systems. Now I can finally figure out what it is for myself!"

"On a scale of one to ten, how illegal is it to experiment on Kaiju body parts?"

"Hey, as far as I know, it's not illegal. People buy the shit for fertilizer and the bone powder to get a bigger better boner, why can't I buy the kidney just to take a little peeksie at the inner workings of the Kaiju urinary and endocrine systems?"

Hermann grumbled, and then looked down to his feet like he'd only just noticed his heinous crime of crossing the tape line.

"Oh, apologies," Hermann muttered as he crossed back over.

"Dude, it's your line, not mine. I don't care if you cross it."

"But I can't expect you to uphold the boundary if I don't, so I apologize nonetheless."

"True," Newt said. "So I guess you're gonna have to let me cross the line once in return."

Hermann glared, but seemed to be thinking that this was the only way to upkeep the sanctity of the line, or however the hell Hermann thought.

"Oh… oh, fine. Do it now; I don't want you hanging it over my head later."

Newt looked down at the line, and then dipped his foot over the tape as if testing water with his toe. Hermann gave a long-suffering sigh. Then Newt hopped over it.

"Hey, no land mines."

"Newton, stop being a child."

"Hey, I'm just making sure this wasn't all a plan to kill me. I wouldn't even put it past you, dude." Newt immediately went for Hermann's couch. The thing was heaven. Though he'd totally scratched the perfect brown leather with the chain hanging from his wallet one day—by some miracle, Hermann hadn't noticed—so he sat carefully as not to do it again. He sank in and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. God, so comfortable.

"You only get twenty three seconds."

"Yeah, yeah, five more minutes, mommy," Newt murmured, already feeling himself falling asleep. Maybe he should have slept last night. Or the night before.

Nah, he didn't need to sleep, just needed coffee.

"Newton," Hermann said warningly. "If you think I'm not willing to drag you back to your side, you are entirely mistaken."

"With your bad leg? Unlikely," grumbled Newt.

His eyes were still closed, but Newt heard Hermann huff, obviously insulted by the comment. Newt considered that poking fun at Hermann's limp was maybe going a little too far. He actually had no clue why he had a limp at all. He often wondered though. He sometimes liked to think he had this giant battle scar with this awesome backstory that shows that Hermann is secretly a badass or something, but more likely it was some childhood illness or something.

And then Newt heard Hermann's cane clatter to the floor and there were hands on his arm, tugging at him with more strength than Newt could've expected. It made his eyes snap open, and he had to force himself not to panic.

It's okay. It's only Hermann. It's not…

He took a deep breath.

"Okay, Herms, okay, I'm moving," he said with a laugh that he had to force out as he yanked his arm back. He stood up, but not before grabbing Hermann's cane and handing it back to him. It wasn't Hermann's fault, after all. Newt had been asking for it, and Hermann didn't know…

Hermann glared, like Newt's kindness made it harder to hate him and that bothered him. Newt just rolled his eyes and went over to his own side, putting all his organs back in the box. He needed to get out of here, suddenly. Go hide away in his room.

"What're you doing?" asked Hermann.

"Putting these away. And don't worry, there's room in my second fridge, it won't be going with the food."

"But… you only just got them. I was sure you'd want to do something with them now."

Why the hell did it matter? Newt couldn't figure out why Hermann chose now to pretend to give a fuck. Bad timing.

"I'm just tired, okay? Lay off. I thought you'd be glad I was getting out of your hair."

He stuck his box in the fridge and rubbed his eyes, as if that might get rid of the stupid images flashing through his head. He really did need some sleep, probably. But he already hated sleeping, and now… it'd only be worse now. He was still considering going for coffee instead.

Newt turned and jumped hard when Hermann was only two feet behind him. Hermann's already suspicious face became more concerned.

"Newton, are you alright?"

His concern was only infuriating, at the moment. The one thing he never wanted anyone to ask about, that he was never willing to talk about, and it was the only thing Hermann cared enough to notice. It was ridiculous. "Yeah, I'd be fuckin' fine if you'd get off my back."

Usually this would be enough to get Hermann going off about respecting other people by not cursing at them, but apparently it wasn't enough now. Hermann stepped closer to say something, but then shut his mouth again when Newt stumbled back at the innocent advance. Damn it, he was being psychotic. He needed to calm down. He took off his glasses to rub his eyes again.

"Newton?" Hermann asked again, and damn it, Newt'd never heard the guy sound even a little worried before—why in fucking hell did he start now?

"I just need some rest, okay?" said Newt. "I'm… I'm fine. Thanks—thanks for the concern I guess…"

Newt could tell Hermann wasn't planning on letting it go. Which was fucking stupid.

"Is it because I grabbed you?"

Damn geniuses. They were such a fucking pain. Nobody else would have figured it out that fast.

"Hermann, for the love of God, please let it go." He was getting so frustrated he had to force himself to speak English instead of lapsing into German, which for some reason came out more naturally when he was mad. Hermann would have understood it, of course, but probably that would have made it quite obvious that he was feeling a bit out of control. If it wasn't obvious already. Which it totally was, Newt assumed.

"I didn't intend to make you upset."

Yup, that did it. Newt's 'I'm pissed' switch was a little hard to flip, but once it was flipped, he had a little trouble controlling it. "Was meinst du damit hast du nicht—" Damn it, there was the German. He forced himself to speak English again. "Whaddayou mean you didn't mean to upset me?! You always mean to upset me! It's, like, your fucking goal in life! It must drive you crazy that I never get upset by the shit you say, but Herms, I'm used to shit like this, alright? Don't think that you're the first person to hate me just for being me. I get it, I'm not your type of person, whatever—I'm not most people's type of person. But don't tell me you're not trying to be a dick, because you are. So stop pretending you care, because that isn't part of the deal and I know that. You can hate me all you want; it's fine by me as long as we both keep paying the rent."

Hermann was staring at Newt with wide eyes, and Newt considered that if he weren't already feeling vulnerable because of all the flashbacks that were veering through his mind, he'd never have said any of that.

Hermann looked about ready to talk again, but Newt wasn't in the mood to chat now. He felt exhausted from the yelling and the lack of sleep, but electrified in a very bad way from the memories he was still trying to keep away, that he'd shut into the back of his mind so carefully over the past two years.

He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep without regretting it, and he couldn't get comfortable without falling asleep on accident. He'd have to keep himself busy, but he couldn't work on any experiments when he felt like this.

Good thing the world was full of distractions, especially for a highly distractible person like Newt.

"Are you hungry or something? I'll cook you something," Newt said.

"Newton—"

"Or if you're going to insist on talking some more, you can eat Top Ramen for the rest of the semester."

Hermann kept looking at Newt with a hard stare. "I won't discuss the other thing," Hermann said quickly, probably so Newt wouldn't stomp away before he could finish his sentence. "But I think it's necessary to talk about what you just said."

"Why?" Newt whined. "It was all true! You hate me, it's cool, I don't even care. Now please just let me cook you something and we can never talk about that meltdown I just had ever again."

"I don't hate you," he said timidly.

"Fine, hate's a strong word, you dislike me a lot, whatever." He started looking through the cabinets, deciding he's going to cook either way just because it made him feel better when he did it. It was something to focus on.

"Damn it, Newton, would you just listen to me?"

Newt was surprised enough by the cursing that he looked over, pausing in his search for ingredients. "I apologize for upsetting you and I would very much like for this not to put another wedge between the two of us. Things are already… tense enough without this hanging in the air between us too. Can we put it behind us?"

Okay, now this was something Newt could agree to. Pretending none of this ever happened. He didn't have to put so much effort into his next grin. "Yeah, you're right, man. Let's just forget it ever happened. I'm sorry I kinda started yelling. I'm crazy sometimes."

"Understatement."

It made Newt feel more comfortable to have Hermann teasing again, so he smiled once more. "Well you're crazy all the time, so I still win."

And so things were back to normal.

At least for now.


	3. Chapter 3

It was that very night that Hermann heard the first yell come from Newton's room. Hermann sat up from bed, feeling suddenly quite awake. He thought at first that maybe the sound had been in his dream, until he heard hard breathing through the wall. His very first thought was that Newton might be having sex, but Hermann knew what wails of ecstasy during intercourse sounded like quite well, and this sounded nothing like that. This was fear. Pain.

There was a whimper. Then he heard, just barely, "Stop, please."

Hermann became concerned that there might be an intruder in the flat. He stood and fumbled for his cane before quickly going down the hall to Newton's room. He pushed the door open and… no, Newton was alone. And asleep. He was having a nightmare. Though that seemed an understatement. He was thrashing around in the bed, almost sounded like he was sobbing.

"I'm sorry. I'm—I'm really sorry. Just please stop."

A horrid feeling sank into Hermann's gut at the sound of Newton's voice. He knew that voice. He'd used it himself before. Apologising just for being yourself because if not, you could end up seriously injured. Or dead. His hand was gripped on Newton's doorknob hard in one hand and his cane in the other and he looked down to his half-useless leg, forcing himself not to remember why he'd have a limp for the rest of his life.

Should Hermann wake him?

No, he thought quickly. He shouldn't even have come in here. It was a horrible invasion of privacy.

So even though it made him feel horrible, he shut the door quietly and let Newton go on howling. It was another hour before it stopped, and when it did Hermann clearly heard Newton get out of bed and walk through the hall, apparently unable to sleep any longer.

* * *

Hermann had told Newton he wanted to put their horrible fight behind him, to forget it happened, but he couldn't. Not because he was cross about what Newton had said. Much of it had been deserved, and the assumptions, while incorrect, were still founded in reasonable logic. It was that Newton was different lately. He already hadn't been sleeping enough, but now his lack of sleep was downright unhealthy, and when he did sleep once every two or three days, he continued to have night terrors that kept Hermann staring at the ceiling with wide eyes, trying not to imagine what Newton was seeing in his head.

Usually, he'd just be irritated that someone was causing him not to sleep. He'd yell at Newton for him to get his nightmares under control.

But he couldn't be mad this time, because he had a really bad feeling that they were his fault. They started the day he'd grabbed him, and Newton's reaction had been downright strange. Like a deer in the headlights—or a man petrified of getting attacked. There were obvious signs of past abuse. But he'd never seen it before, not once. But now, ever since Hermann grabbed him, they were everywhere. Newton was jumpy all the time, shaky, too keen to keep himself active at all hours of the day.

And it was Hermann's fault. He really felt horrible, if truth be told. He had no idea what to do, what to say…

* * *

His laptop pinged. Hermann shook his head, forcing himself out of his reverie. He'd been waiting for a while for someone to answer him, and now there it was.

Sure, baby, I'm ready when you are, it said.

He rolled his eyes. He hated when they spoke like that. As if sex needs to include silly pet names. Especially baby. What about babies are arousing? But he'd learned that the pet names were just a part of the game, so he'd grown accustomed to the use of 'darling' or 'love', as both got a pretty decent response. They said that with his accent, it only made sense.

He didn't prefer this venue to satisfy his… urges. But thus far he'd found nobody to see in person. He'd had Vanessa for several years in London, Mikael in Sweden, then Kiko in Japan… But it was hard work, finding the right person to share that intimacy with, and it took a long time to build up the proper amount of trust. Hermann hadn't met anyone in California that he even desired, let alone that he wanted to know quite that personally.

Because one thing that most people would never guess about Hermann was that he was not, in fact, asexual. Actually, he had quite a lot of sexual desire stored up inside him, but for a very specific type of sex.

He was sixteen when he learned he was a Dominant. He was dating Vanessa, and he really didn't enjoy sex much. It did nothing for him. Vanessa was unsurprised, from how he was, but she wanted to try something. She thought maybe, just maybe, there was a type of sex he would like. She handed him a riding crop, for she rode horses and had one sitting in her room. She pulled down her jeans and asked him to hit her with it.

He was appalled, at first. But the thought of what her pale skin might look like with a red welt on it… it intrigued him. So he tried it.

He couldn't believe the feeling it gave him. And maybe he would have just been disgusted with himself, except for the sinful noise Vanessa had made when it struck. That made it ten times better. Because it wasn't that he didn't like causing pleasure, it was just that he had never liked sex the way they were having it.

"You just don't like it vanilla," she informed him after he didn't know what to say, how to explain that he had no idea that causing pain aroused him. She must have seen that he was afraid of himself, and she explained quite calmly that there was nothing wrong with him, that this didn't mean he was a bad person, that there were plenty of masochistic submissives in the world that would love a chance to get a taste of that sadistic Dominant streak of his. That, lucky for him, she was one of them.

Once he learned that he didn't like his sex 'vanilla', as those in the world of BDSM called it, he found that he actually quite liked sex, and had more libido than he knew what to do with. He spent a lot of time in research on the subject so he could fully understand what the world was, what was okay and what wasn't, what all it entailed, what things he never could have thought of on his own that other people were kind enough to post on the internet for him.

It got even stranger when he went to Sweden for university and met Mikael, his first (and so far only) male partner. He'd never considered himself one that went either way, but he found in Sweden he was just as wrong about that as he had been when he said he just didn't like sex.

It was his best kept secret. It was the reason Newton wasn't allowed in his room for any reason—if he dug around at all, he might find any variety of toys, as he had more than a dozen of them stashed away in different places in his room.

But anyway, there he was in his room, on a chat room where Dominants found submissives and they had very dirty IM chats about what they would do to each other if they were together. Often times he'd go on sites where he could speak to the other person instead, but Newton was awake most of the time now, so he couldn't risk him overhearing some command. He didn't like this nearly as much as talking aloud, and he didn't like talking aloud nearly as much as actually experiencing it, but he really had no other choice as of now. So he had to stroke himself off as he imagined this person—he wasn't sure if it was a man or a woman and he hardly cared—tied down to his bed, begging him to let them come.

When he was finished, he checked the time. Seven o' clock. Time to eat, he figured. He made sure he didn't look flushed and that his clothes were in perfect order before going out into the front room.

Where Newton had fallen asleep at his chair, some organ on the table in front of him—luckily he hadn't fallen asleep on said organ. As of now, he looked like he was sleeping restfully, so Hermann tried his best not to disturb him as he picked up what looked like a liver or something and stuck it inside Newton's second refrigerator. The smell of body parts after they sat out too long was amazingly unpleasant.

Hermann searched through the other fridge where they kept the food and found some leftovers of the Bratwurst and boiled potatoes from the other night when Newton had been feeling like cooking something German. It'd been quite good, reminding him a little of what his mother used to make back in Garmisch-Partenkirchen—though it had of course been different, because the recipe Newton got from his father was how it was made in Berlin, and if there was one thing Germans from different regions couldn't agree on, it was the best way to make Bratwurst.

He ate it cold, because he had work to do that he'd neglected while waiting on that chat room. God, he hated that weakness of his, and sometimes cursed Vanessa—whom he hadn't spoken to in close to six years—because his life had been just fine without him knowing exactly what kind of sex he enjoyed, and now it was a distraction he really couldn't afford.

He was washing his plate when he heard it.

"I didn't mean to. I'm sorry."

Hermann closed his eyes. Oh no. Not out here. Hermann couldn't ignore it here.

He opened them and looked over to Newton. His eyes were shut too tight to be sleeping peacefully and he was beginning to shake.

He went over to Newton's side as quickly as he could with his limp and bent down, trying to keep his right leg straight when he did as not to hurt it too badly.

He was unsure of what to do. What would make it better and what worse? Would just waking him up cause him to panic?

He decided soothing words might work best.

"Newton, it's alright. You're fine. You're safe."

Something about saying things like that seemed to naturally come with contact, so without thinking he set a hand on the small of his back.

And he was quite surprised when Newton's shaking lessened immediately.

The contact helped? That was surprising. Hermann, experimentally, moved his hand up and down his back. It was something he wasn't entirely unaccustomed to, considering that aftercare was required with his sexual endeavours—about the only time he was ever considered 'sweet', according to Vanessa. And Mikael. And Kiko.

The shaking stopped and the murmuring did too, until Newton looked peaceful again. He even smiled a little, and with Hermann not having to look extra annoyed under Newton's eye, he even hazarded a smile back.

"Sleep, Newton," he finally said. "You need it."

And he took his laptop into his room, because he didn't want to scrape on the chalkboard when Newton was finally getting a little rest.


	4. Chapter 4

Newt had been feeling way better lately, luckily. He'd been real off for a while, but suddenly he was sleeping again. It was weird, actually. He wasn't sure what started it. Sometimes in the morning he'd remember a snippet of a nightmare. Or even of a dream, the non-bad kind, one where someone was rubbing his back and telling him everything was going to be okay, that he was safe.

So basically he was, like, functioning kinda normally again. Sorta. As much as he usually did. He never slept enough, or ate enough, and he drank too much coffee, but hey, nobody's perfect.

But with every fixed problem, another one surfaced, of course.

Because now Newt was lonely. With all the bad things that came with the nightmares, which were just repressed memories that wanted to resurface, came the worst thing of all: all that horrible stuff came with some stuff he'd actually enjoyed. And he missed it.

Maybe he could find someone here that was, you know, not an ass, but still had the things Newt wanted in a relationship.

And Newt was at a bar when he found someone. His name was Chuck. He had a cool accent and joked a lot—not to mention was all super muscly and aspired to be a Jaeger pilot someday—so he was totally Newt's type. It was pretty much perfect.

They didn't see each other much as of now. Just fucked occasionally. Newt had kind of hoped for a little more than that, but it still helped with the loneliness a bit, and that was good enough for him.

The downside of Newt's better mood was that Hermann wasn't being almost sort of decent anymore. They were back to bickering again, which was both annoying and comfortable at the same time, if that makes any sense at all. Newt had almost been starting to wonder if Hermann was starting to hate him less, and they couldn't have that.

"Whatcha doin'?" asked Newt. Hermann looked back absently from his chalkboard.

"What do you mean? Isn't it obvious?"

Newt glanced over all the numbers and letters and stuff. "Uh… yeah, it's math mumbo jumbo. I hoped you could explain it in, you know, English."

"Why?" he asked exhaustedly.

"Dunno, I just… hey, you look tired."

Hermann, to Newt's surprise, looked suddenly guilty. Like he'd been hoping Newt might not notice.

"It's just that usually you make it a point to sleep the amount you're supposed to so you can 'think properly'." He finished the sentence in his best imitation of Hermann's accent.

Hermann continued to be silent for a moment. "I suppose I ought to just tell you," Hermann murmured, "or you'll assume the worst."

Newt raised an eyebrow. The worst? What worst, that Hermann actually was fucking random people at night? Yeah right.

"Okay then…" Newt prompted. "What's up?"

Hermann looked timid. "Well… maybe you'll notice that you've been sleeping more soundly for the past couple weeks."

Newt had never even considered that Hermann knew he wasn't sleeping well. God, had he been making noise or something?

"I learned several weeks ago that it is possible for me to make you sleep without nightmares. But it takes a little bit of attention, you see."

"You've been… helping me sleep?"

"Only because I'm tired of hearing you yell half the night," Hermann said gruffly. "But… well, rubbing your back for a while makes you sleep better. But I have to wake up every hour or so to do it again, or you'll start screaming all over again. So, yes. That's out there, then."

Newt felt really bad now. He had no idea Hermann was doing that for him. "Wow, Hermann, that's, like, really awesome of you, but you shoulda just told me. I'm sorry I've been keeping you up. I had no idea. I'll see if I can get sleeping medication or something so you don't have to do that anymore."

"I don't really mind it," said Hermann. "And sleeping medication is quite addictive, and you really don't need any addictions in your life," he added.

"You don't… you don't mind giving me a back rub five times a night?"

"Eight, usually," Hermann corrected. "But it's only every other night."

"But, dude, it's keeping you from sleeping. There's no reason you need to do that for me."

Newt wasn't even sure why they were having this conversation. He figured Hermann would jump at an opportunity to stop helping Newt out.

"I just… I had a proposition," said Hermann.

The words sounded weird coming out of Hermann's mouth. Newt couldn't quite get his head around it, so he stopped trying to. "Okay…"

"Well, you see…" Hermann looked really embarrassed. He set his chalk down on the metal bar at the bottom of his chalk board, carefully cleaning his fingers off on his towel reserved for chalky fingers—though in Newt's opinion, that's what pants were for. "Okay, I just need to come right out with it. You need someone to keep you sleeping, and I need… well, I don't mind the doing it, I only mind having to get up at all hours of the night to do it. So I wondered if… If you and I were sleeping next to each other, if that would be enough to keep you asleep for the whole night."

Newt blinked at Hermann, feeling like he'd just made up what he heard coming out of Hermann's mouth, because it couldn't have been what he actually just said.

Because that would basically mean that Hermann was suggesting… "So you're saying that you and I should sleep in the same bed tonight."

"Just to try it out," said Hermann. "If it doesn't work, we shall think of some other solution. But I need sleep, and you need sleep… as of now, this seems like the simplest solution to our quandary."

Newt didn't know what to say. The whole thing just seemed so strange he didn't even know what to think, really. He had no idea how he felt about it.

But he did know that he felt bad that he was keeping Hermann up, and that he couldn't really think of another way to fix the problem. It was the only idea they had, and as scientists, wasn't it their duty to go to any length necessary to solve a problem?

"Well… okay, I guess we could try it. My bed's kinda small though." Newt wondered if Hermann's was bigger, but he hadn't so much as gotten a single glance into Hermann's room, so he had no idea.

"I'm aware," Hermann replied with a thin smile. "We'd have to be close for this to work anyway, I would assume. We'll make do."

Newt nodded before turning back to his laptop—he told himself that even though he'd rather dig through Kaiju guts all day long, he had to reserve some time every week for his dissertation, and this was his dissertation time, unfortunately. It wasn't that he didn't like writing it—it was more that he liked looking at entrails better.

But he couldn't concentrate the rest of the day. Honestly, he probably didn't get a single thing done in the next five hours. He was just feeling so odd about this whole thing. It made him… it was strange, but he was nervous. Really nervous. He ended up retreating to his room to clean it up a little, as if Hermann hadn't already seen it like it normally was, and he washed his sheets. Hermann was doing him a favor, after all, so the least he could do was tidy up a tiny bit.

It was pretty late when Newt looked over to Hermann to mention the whole sleeping thing and Hermann was already looking at him, as if he'd been waiting for him to suggest it. So they both stood, and Newt walked to his room first. He looked at the bed and thought of something: He usually slept on the right side of the bed, but then if he got into bed now, Hermann would have to climb over him. And even if he waited, he'd be shoving him into the wall. Which would usually seem entirely unimportant, except that, again, Hermann was doing him a favor—albeit one that was awkward for the both of them.

So he got into PJs, and he assumed that was what Hermann was doing too.

Another problem. Newt usually slept in just boxers, but obviously that wouldn't be an option this time. He found a tee shirt and gym shorts and figured that was good enough.

He got under the covers and shoved himself against the wall—after all, fitting two full sized men in a twin bed, even if they were both thin, was going to be difficult. Then Hermann came in, shutting the door behind him. Newt tried not to smile at Hermann's PJ pants, which donned little math problems on them, like 2+2=4 and stuff. They were obviously for kids. God, Hermann was such a fucking derp.

He was setting his cane against the side table when he looked down at Newt and made a face.

"What, wha'd I do now? This was your idea, dude."

"I'm aware," Hermann said. "It's rather silly. Never mind."

"Nah, tell me. After this, there's no reason for us to be awkward about anything ever."

"Well… it's only… well, usually, I sleep on the left side of the bed. But it's of little importance, of course."

Newt actually laughed. "Dude, you know what's funny? I usually sleep on the right side. I just didn't want to shove you into the wall."

Hermann raised an eyebrow. "Then up you get, Newton. We'll trade."

Newt nodded and got up, letting Hermann shuffle into the spot next to the wall. Newt looked down at the bed awkwardly. Did they really have to do this? Surely there was some other way to get him to sleep. Like knocking him out with a bottle. Or fucking gagging him with duct tape so Hermann didn't have to hear him yell. Like fucking anything but this awkwardness that was about to happen.

But it was kinda too late now. There Hermann was in his bed.

He sighed, and Hermann made a mildly entertained face like he knew just what Newt was sighing about, and Newt got into the bed, removing his glasses, then leaned over and turned off the light.

He could feel Hermann against his side. Yup, it was pretty much as weird as he figured it would be. If a single person ever found out about this, he'd never hear the end of it.

Newt turned on his side, back facing Hermann, just because he usually slept on his side. Normally he faced the wall, but he wasn't going to go facing Hermann, so he just went with the other way. Close enough, right.

"So Herms?"

"I'm quite certain I've told you not to call me that."

"It's a compliment, dude. It's supposed to be endearing when someone gives you a nickname."

"You called me that the moment you met me."

"Well… I dunno, I'm into nicknames. Which is why I want you to call me Newt."

"I'll call you Newt around the time that you start calling me Hermann on a regular basis."

Newt smirked. "Fair enough."

There was a bout of silence where Newt tried not to be uncomfortable with feeling Hermann behind him. Strangely enough, what made him most uncomfortable about it was the fact that he wasn't all that uncomfortable with it. If that makes sense at all.

"So what do we do if this doesn't work?" asked Newt.

"We never speak of it again," Hermann said immediately.

"And… what if it does?"

This time there was a pause. "Then we both shall do what we must for the sake of our health, and our work."

Newt smiled into the darkness before saying, "For science."

He could literally feel Hermann rolling his eyes. "You're ridiculous, Newton."

"I know." He was quiet for another moment before he said. "Really though, thanks Hermann. This… is really awesome of you."

"You're welcome."

"G'night Hermann."

"Goodnight… Newt."


	5. Chapter 5

Somehow, Hermann knew he would wake up in the morning finding he had slept all night without having to wake up to calm Newton. Sure, he'd treated it like an experiment that might not work, but he'd assumed it would.

What he didn't expect, however, was to wake up on his side, facing the right side of the bed… with Newton facing the left… and Newton's head to be in Hermann's chest… and Hermann's arm slung around his back…

It was, to say the least, rather intimate.

But Hermann couldn't bring himself to move. Something about Newton's steady breathing made him unable to disturb the other man. He never slept often anymore, and as Hermann's goal in all this was for both of them to sleep more, it felt rather counterproductive to wake him now. So he tried to relax a little, thinking he might fall back asleep or something.

Just then, Newton's arms, which were around Hermann's waist, tightened a little, and he snuggled his face closer into his shirt, humming contentedly.

"For goodness sakes—" grumbled Herman in a whisper, but pressed his cheek into Newton's head nonetheless, almost surprised that he smelled rather pleasant. Not like guts or like three days without showering, like Hermann might have supposed, but like… like the sea on a cold day. It was strange, because it's not like Newton had been to the beach recently. It was certainly strange, but intriguing and lovely enough that Hermann didn't mind laying there and waiting for Newton to wake up. It was actually a bit relaxing…

* * *

"I've told you countless times not to do that."

Hermann knows he's landed into one of his many sexual dreams. Some people awake the moment they know they're dreaming, but not Hermann. He knows it's a dream because the lighting is wrong, because the voices are foggy. But mostly he knows because he watches them as if he's some third party observer, seeing himself in the eyes of some bodiless entity that's quite the cinematographer.

The look on his face is what he imagines it usually looks like when he lapses into the role of Dominant: his lips a hard line and his eyebrows together in what might look like rage if you don't know that there's joy, and caring, right beneath the surface, because any Dominant that's worth a thing isn't just working on anger, they're working on a desire to create pleasure for both parties—and maybe a little bit of a sadistic streak.

But in Hermann's case, half his pleasure coms from that of his partner. Maybe more than half.

Only Hermann can be seen from this angle, but it's obvious from where his eyes are trained that someone is beneath him. From that hungry look on his face, they are perhaps already in a compromising position.

"I know, Hermann, I—"

"What was that?" Hermann asks sharply.

"I mean sir! I know that, sir. I'm sorry."

That voice… it sounds familiar.

The voices sound strange in dreams, but this really sounds familiar.

And then the invisible cameraman through which Hermann sees his dreams pans downward, and yes, it is exactly who it sounds like. On the floor, on his knees, lies a gloriously naked man, his arms tied behind his back. His head is down, but there's no way not to recognise the tattoos that cover every part of him that's visible. Well, most parts. Not his penis, which is deliciously hard and dripping pre-come. From this angle Hermann can see the his back, which is crisscrossing with pink already. But he has obviously been easy on him thus far.

"Tell me, Newton, how much you want me to hit you again."

Quickly, the words flood from his mouth, like he couldn't be more eager to say them. "Please, sir. I need you."

"Need what, Newton?"

"You to hit me."

"With what?"

"The whip, sir."

Hermann gets chills up and down his spin. It's just too good. Newton, as untamable as a Kaiju, there at his mercy.

Hermann has his fingers curled around the whip—even watching from the side as he is, he cane feel the leather that's warm from being in his grip for a while. He can't help but savour it before continuing. "It's very simple: I own you. That means you will submit to my desires, my wishes, my whims."

But Newton is shaking. He's frightened. Hermann leans down, taking his chin and forcing them to meet eyes.

"I said it was simple. I didn't say it was easy."

Newton nods like he understands, but the fear is there in his eyes too, and not the mild kind that drives Hermann mad in the best sort of way.

"You trust me, right?"

Newton nods.

"Tell me how you're feeling right now."

After being given permission to speak, he says, "I know you won't hurt me. But it still scares me. Because…"

"I know," says Hermann. "You have your safe word if you want to stop. Do you want to say it?"

The look in Newton's eyes turns determined, and he stays resolutely silent as he looks into Hermann's eyes.

"Good boy," Hermann purrs.

* * *

Hermann's eyes flashed open suddenly.

Dear God, he'd just had that dream.

And worse, it wasn't something he could just call strange, something that made him uncomfortable.

Because he could feel his own erection, and he never woke up erect like other men did, not without cause.

He glanced over and Newton's eyes were open. He nearly jumped.

"Heya Hermann," he said with a smile.

"Erm… good morning, Newton."

"Oh, are we over you calling me Newt since last night?" He was still grinning.

"I was tired."

"Oh, that's your excuse, Herms?"

"You're smiling even more than usual this morning," Hermann noticed, ignoring the use of nickname.

"I slept well for some reason," he replied.

Hermann rolled his eyes.

"I really can't thank you enough for this… but I feel bad, you know? You shouldn't have to do this. There's probably some other way—"

"Newton, we shall continue to this schedule until I say otherwise. Is that clear?"

Hermann, all worked up from his dream, was accidentally speaking the way he would to a submissive. He bit his tongue and expected Newton to get quite indignant about being bossed around in this way.

But Newton just stared at him blankly for a short moment before saying timidly, "Okay."

Oh, the shivers that ran down his spine then that he was only just able to mask. Perfect submission. It was simply delicious.

He just barely kept from asking 'Okay what?'

The thought of Newton addressing him as 'sir' did not help the current predicament in his pyjama trousers.

But it shouldn't have done anything to him.

Oh no. What had he started?

"Well, time to get up," Newton murmured after a moment, standing and stretching. Hermann glanced at the tattoos on the back of his calves and forearms, and the peek of back that he saw during his stretch showed more. It only made him think of what he'd just seen in his sleep, the tattoos his mind's eye had imagined. The one place left unmarked besides his hands and feet.

Then he realised that Newton had turned around to stare at him.

"Uh, dude, you gettin' up? I know it's warm and all, but you being in my bed when I'm not's a little weird. Plus, I wanna change."

Oh, how badly he wanted to say, 'Just change now. I'll only watch a little'.

This really had to stop.

But Hermann's problem would be easily visible if he stood.

And then to his horror, Newton began to grin.

"Oh. Dude, morning wood? It's all good, I have it too. Don't even worry about it."

Hermann took every ounce of his willpower not to glance down, but it didn't end up mattering much, because the manner of shorts he wore made it obvious even in his peripherals.

"Though I never figured you got morning wood. The things you learn about a guy, you know?"

So casual, as if this were at all appropriate to talk about.

Then again, Hermann had just only dreamed about whipping the man in front of him into submission and was doing his best not to stare blatantly at his erection, so maybe appropriate had flown out the window.

"It's not like I'm gonna look," Newton continued. "I'll even close my eyes."

He covered his eyes with his hands, and Hermann without meaning to glanced at the bulge in his shorts.

This was very, very bad.

And was going to require a lot of masturbation as soon as possible.

He stood quickly and started towards the door.

"Just don't let me hear your morning jack," said Newton. Hermann turned on him, but his eyes were still shut, to his merit. Newton thought that was a joke.

But he didn't know how right he was.


	6. Chapter 6

The routine was somehow easier to fall into than Newt expected. The first few nights, it was just a little awkward, and Newt had to make a joke or two to ease the tension, but then it just became a part of their life. They fought and bickered all day, or sometimes were so angry at the other they didn't even talk to each other, but that didn't change the fact that when it came time to sleep, they spooned their way through the night. Any argument was under truce as long as they were shoved into Newt's little bed.

They'd even talked a little while under that truce.

And Newt was honest with Hermann about something that he always wanted to keep a secret… but it being the reason Hermann and he had to share a bed at all, it only seemed fair to tell him.

They had been doing this long enough that it wasn't weird to them that Hermann was hugging him from behind, Newt's fingers tracing back and forth idly on Hermann's arm. He thought maybe they both craved the contact, and that this whole arrangement was doing more than just helping them both sleep.

The truth of the matter was that they were both lonely and both afraid to admit it. This helped.

The conversation started casually. They'd gotten into bed earlier than usual, and Newt had figured he was the only one that wasn't tired until Hermann was the one that started the conversation.

"So how are things with Chuck?"

Newt's hand froze for a moment on Hermann's arm in surprise. "Since when do you care about my personal life?"

"Oh, don't mock me for being polite."

Newt decided to let it go, his fingers starting again at their grazing.

"It's fine, I guess. It's not really emotional, you know? It's just sex." He paused. "Sorry, that was probably weird to say."

"You seem to think the thought of sex makes me terribly uncomfortable."

"Well… doesn't it?"

"I'm not twelve, Newton," he grumbled. "Now please continue your story. Do you desire more from the relationship?"

"I don't really know," Newt admitted. "I want a relationship in general. It's not like I'm set on him, necessarily… there just aren't really any other options in my life."

There was a long silence where Newt let himself relax into Hermann, waiting for the sound of Hermann's steady breathing in Newt's hair to lull him to sleep.

Then Newt said, "Why the curiosity? It just seems… like something's on your mind."

He could tell he was right by the silence that followed where he could almost feel Hermann deciding whether or not to say something.

Then he must have decided to go for it, because he said, "Newton, I know… I know you probably don't want to talk about this… and you probably don't trust me enou—"

"I probably trust you more than you think." He didn't actually mean to say it, and he realized it was a little awkward. So he added, "Dude, I let you sleep in my bed every night. I gotta trust you kind of a lot to let you do that, right?"

"Well… yes, I suppose you have a point. Well, I only wanted to ask…" He sighed, and then the next words came out in a bit of a rush, which was strange with his accent that seemed to want to over-enunciate everything. "Obviously my grabbing you was what caused these nightmares to begin. From the dialogue I've heard, you're begging someone to stop, apologizing… I just wondered what exactly happened that you're remembering. I can guess… but I wanted to hear it from you."

Newt didn't want to at first. He didn't want to at all. But first of all, Hermann was pretty damn smart, so he probably already knew to a point. Second, considering all of this, hiding the reason they were even doing it was sort of stupid. And not fair.

"It was when I was getting my Bachelor's," started Newt hesitantly. "I was sorta dating this guy for a long time, and it was kinda perfect at first, and I really thought I'd fallen in love or something stupid like that… We moved in together and stuff and it was still cool for a while… but then it turned out that he's a really heavy drinker, and when he drinks… well, he throws punches. A lot." He took a shaky breath.

"You don't have to continue," said Hermann. "If it makes you uneasy."

But Hermann should've known by now that it was impossible to get Newt to shut up once you got him talking.

"He kind of just hated everything I did. And all the good things about him went away and everything was just bad all the time. I kinda thought I might die, actually."

Hermann's response was a whisper, like the man Newt was talking about might hear if they were too loud. "Why didn't you leave?"

That Newt didn't want to answer. Because he'd sound crazy.

Because we had great sex.

That was really it.

Sounds fuckin psychotic, but it was the truth. And he'd do it again, probably, because the sex was that good.

So he told the other part of the answer instead. "I was kinda scared what he'd do. And I thought maybe all the good stuff would come back… but it never did."

"So when did you end it?"

"Actually, I didn't. He got a job offer in Chicago and peaced out. Didn't even say bye." Newt really didn't know why it made him sad. "A fuckin' note that said he was changing his number, moving out of state, that we were finished. That I'd have to pay that month's rent. Which was a given, because I always paid all the bills," Newt added.

"He sounds like a moron."

"He was."

"It's hard to believe you'd let someone push you around like that."

You might be surprised at how easy I am to push around when you ask me right, Newt thought, but he'd never dare say it.

"So now that I had a secret telling moment, you have to tell one back."

"That wasn't part of the deal."

"Too bad. Spill. Tell me something."

"Like what?" Hermann asked exasperatedly.

Newt couldn't really think of anything to ask, so even though the story probably wouldn't even be that interesting, he went with, "What happened to your leg?"

Newt was a little surprised at how quite Hermann got. Maybe the story was a little closer to what he'd hoped before: got in a fight with a Kaiju or was a secret ninja.

"Well, Newton, you're not the only one who is scarred from violence. But mine is more physical than mental."

"What happened?" Newt asked, and his voice had gotten all quite just like Hermann's had a little bit ago.

He sighed. "I was rather disliked in school, for my demeanor, for my accent, for a lot of things. I just grated on people's nerves. Not to mention you know from experience that most people and I just don't mesh. So one day some boys thought it might be funny to attack me. I doubt they intended to do any real, permanent damage, but both my knee and my hip were shattered with a baseball bat on my right side."

"Holy shit," Newt managed to breathe, all his organs sinking into his toes. That was fucking horrible. Nobody on the planet deserved that, let alone Hermann, who actually wasn't that bad of a guy, whether he'd admit it aloud or not.

"It was mostly fixed, but it will never quite set right. It usually doesn't hurt, luckily, only when it's cold or I am on my feet for too long."

"That's terrible."

Newt felt Hermann shrug. "I've long since forgotten my anger over it all. They were stupid, and lesser minds often don't take well to superior intellect. Maybe that's what happened to us both."

They both stopped talking then, as if on cue, and pretty quickly they were asleep.

* * *

After the conversation, Newt actually felt a bit better about the whole thing. He thought maybe just talking about it with somebody was enough to make him start to get over it again. He considered telling Hermann that, suggesting that he try a night alone, but the thought of his bed empty was amazingly unattractive to him now, so he kept quiet about it.

Things continued to get better. Chuck, it turned out, wanted more out of their relationship than sex too. They became official. But he still never came to the house during the day, and Newt never went to his. He didn't mention the relationship to Hermann and they kept their sleeping arrangement. After all, it wasn't a romantic thing—but he still didn't put it past Hermann to think it improper to share a bed with a guy who's taken.

It was really great. Everything was great.

So Newt really should have known it was all going to go wrong.


	7. Chapter 7

Things had been going so well. The two of them were becoming quite accustomed to their sleeping arrangement. Both were sleeping quite well—Newton likely better than he ever had in his life, as he was now sleeping every night.

At first.

Then came the night that Hermann got up to go to bed, and Newton stayed in his chair, staring blankly at the table.

Hermann, confused, went over and put a hand on his shoulder. Newton jumped at even this light contact.

"Are you coming to bed?" asked Hermann gently.

"I—uh—well—you—you go ahead, okay? I'll come in a little—a little while."

Hermann tried to look at Newton's face, wondering what it might look like when his voice sounded quite so wrong, but Newton wouldn't face him.

"I can wait for you if you want," Hermann said. He wasn't sure why he even suggested it, but he was suddenly worried, and the thought of trying to sleep with Newton out here seemed impossible.

"You don't have to do that."

"I really don't—"

"I just need some time alone, okay?" Newton snapped, and Hermann was surprised at how hurt he felt hearing it.

His lips curved into a scowl he hadn't donned in a while. "Fine. Goodnight, Newton," he said stiffly, and he walked back farther into the flat, wondering which bed to get into.

He sighed heavily when he thought of the emptiness of his own bed. It was larger than Newton's, and more comfortable, and it had never sounded less attractive to him. So he got into Newton's bed and waited for the other man to come too.

He never did.

* * *

It had been four days since Newton last slept, Hermann was positive. Sure, he left during the day, but Hermann was fairly sure he wasn't sleeping elsewhere from how tired he looked. His eyes were bruised to the point that they nearly looked like actual black eyes as opposed to bags from lack of sleep. When he was home, he sat and stared at the table, drinking coffee. Always with the coffee. There was never a moment where he didn't have a mug in his hand.

Hermann tried to speak to him about it, but Newton was unwilling to talk—ironic, because Hermann would have paid any amount of money to shut him up a month ago, but now all he wanted was to hear him talk again, to laugh at Hermann's expense, anything.

On the fifth day, it was half past one, far past the time he would ever stay up usually. But Newton was gone all day and he was concerned. He couldn't even consider sleep with Newton out of the house for so long.

He heard the keys jingle in the door and resisted the urge to jump up and open the door for him. He stayed seated on his couch, not so patiently waiting for Newton to come in.

He stumbled in the door, and he didn't look Hermann's direction. He has no reason to think Hermann would be awake, after all.

But just as he came in, an arm reached out and yanked him back out. The door stayed open. Hermann stood quickly before he heard Newton.

"Chuck, is something wrong? Did I do something wrong?"

Hermann hated the way his voice sounded. Too timid, too unsure.

Chuck. Wasn't that the man Newton was sleeping with or something?

"You always do something wrong," Chuck scoffed in return. His accent was Australian. "But why the hell do you need to go home anyway, huh? Why don't you ever stay at my place?"

"Well—I—I just have a lot of work to get done—"

"Are you trying to get away from me? What, do I not do enough for you already?"

"No, that's not—"

"Are you still mad about the other day?" he snapped. "You fuckin' scratched the leather in my car with that wallet of yours! You're lucky that's all you got!"

Hermann remembered the scratch on his own couch that he was sure had been Newton before the tape separation became a rule. He smiled fondly for a moment until he registered the end of the sentence.

You're lucky that's all you got.

What did he get?

Hermann was getting a very bad feeling.

"What, are you gonna cry now? You're fuckin' ridiculous, Newt."

"Where're you going?" Newton called.

"To find another boyfriend. I'm done with you."

Hermann was frozen standing next to the couch. He could barely see Newton standing just outside the door. He looked frozen too. It was another thirty seconds before Newton turned around and came inside, shutting the door. He still hadn't noticed Hermann. He was leaning with his head against the door.

And then Hermann heard sobbing.

He was petrified. There Newton was, crying. What was he supposed to do? Would Newton even want him there?

Before he realised he was doing it, he walked forward. "Newton?" he asked quietly, not wanting to scare him by touching him unexpectedly.

Newton spun around, wiping at his eyes. "Oh, Herms, hey," he said, trying for a smile. "I, uh, this probably looks weird," he said with a sniffle. "I'm not actually crying. I'm just—just—" He seemed to realise that Hermann wasn't believing him in the slightest.

"Newton. What did he do to you?"

But even as he asked, he realised. Those bags around his eyes from lack of sleep were dark for a completely different reason. He'd thought they'd looked like black eyes because they were. Now that Hermann was paying attention, it was obvious. There was a cut on the bridge of his nose, a dark spot on his jaw.

"Newton," Hermann whispered. "You…" He had no words.

"I've got pretty bad taste in guys," Newton said, his attempt at a smile nearly physically painful for Hermann. He rubbed his face. "It was just the one time," he said. "But I didn't really wanna sleep again after that. I didn't think even you being there could help."

Hermann was quite sure he'd never suffered from heart break—and until now had never been positive it even existed—but he felt now that was the only way to describe how he was feeling. His heart was literally breaking for the man in front of him.

"How could you let someone do this to you?" he asked, his voice accidentally just a little angry. Luckily, Newton didn't seem to notice.

"Because I'm stupid," he said with a laugh that sounded strangely like a sob. "You wanna know why? You actually wanna know?"

Hermann nodded, because he wasn't sure he could speak.

"This is probably gonna make no sense to you, since you're, you know, you… But I pick guys like this because the sex is awesome. I like it rough—really rough. Like ropes and gags and—god, you didn't want to know that. But anyway, apparently all the types of guys that hit you in bed hit you out of bed too. That's the problem." He laughed again shakily. "All this bullshit for sex. You must think I'm an idiot."

Hermann couldn't believe what he was hearing. Newton was implying—no, more like straight out saying—that he was submissive and that he was under the impression that all Dominants were abusive. He was nearly insulted by the insinuation.

No, he was insulted by it.

"Yes, you are an idiot!" Hermann snapped. "Dominants are not all horrible people, Newton. The fact that you think they are is silly. You have to find the right one! It requires trust. You can't just let someone beat you so that you get some sex in return! It's appalling!"

Newton blinked at Hermann for a long moment. "I—I don't think I said anything about Dominants," he said.

Hermann went red.

"You know a lot more about BDSM than I thought you would," he continued.

"I—well—I only meant—" Hermann couldn't think of a way to properly explain this away.

"Dude. You're totally into rough sex."

Hermann swallowed. The one thing he never wanted Newton to know about him, and there it was.

But after all they'd been through, was it so bad that he knew? Especially considering how many times he'd fantasised about Newton himself? And it turned out Newton liked that kind of sex too. It was almost too good to be true.

"I've been engaging in Dominant/submissive intercourse for years," Hermann admitted.

"Holy shit, dude," he said with a smile that was real this time. "And you're a Dom?"

After a hesitation, Hermann nodded.

"I didn't know you had it in you."

"I do," Hermann said, his voice low and rough, "And trust me when I say that I'm a better Dominant than you've ever seen."

He didn't mean to say it, but Newton's eyes got wide, and Hermann very clearly heard his breath hitch.

Hermann took another step forward. "There's no reason a Dominant has to be abusive. In fact, a good one is only inflicting pain to cause pleasure and for no other reason. True anger shouldn't find its way into the situation. It's rather a shame that you haven't seen BDSM for what it truly is. If you think you like it now… wait until you experience it as it should be." He took a few more steps without noticing. He was standing right in front of Newton now, whose pupils had dilated until the irises were almost gone. "To truly let go, not just of control, but of fear, of reservations. To give into your most carnal desires."

Hermann couldn't pretend that he didn't know where this was going any longer. He had gotten so close that his own crotch was flush against Newton's, and it was quite obvious that he was hard. Just from the sound of Hermann's voice. That in itself worked to send pangs of arousal through Hermann as well.

Hermann didn't quite follow how one minute Newton was crying and Hermann was just asking what happened, and how only a minute later they were looking at each other like they simply wanted to devour one another.

"I never would have guessed that you were like this, Herms," Newton said, his voice gravelly and quiet, much different than usual.

Hermann was already too deep into Dominant mode to stop himself from what he did next. He reached around and grabbed Newton's arse, then pinched hard.

"Ow!" Newton yelped indignantly.

"I've told you not to call me that," said Hermann, but the way he was saying it this time was entirely different.

And in turn Newton reacted differently. It was quite clear that even though he had never had a proper Dominant, he had the makings of a good submissive, because his usual rebelliousness was conspicuously absent. Just Hermann's command was enough to make him take a deep, shaky breath. "I'm sorry," he said.

"I'm sorry what?"

Newton's breathing was definitely accelerating now, enough that Hermann could feel the other man's chest press against his own every second. "I'm sorry sir."

Hermann had to shut his eyes and savour the sound of it. He'd been waiting to hear that out of his lips for a long time.

Newton made a quiet whimpering noise, which made Hermann open his eyes, concerned it was a frightened kind of whimper, or a prelude to crying. But he was happy to see that it wasn't that at all. The look on his face was tortured and lustful. Exactly how it should be.

"Tell me what you want, Newton."

"I—I want you to kiss me." There was a pause before he remembered to add, "Sir."

Oh, he wanted to kiss him too. He'd wanted to for entirely too long. But he was having too much fun to go there quite yet.

"I'm not sure you deserve that. Do you?"

Newton nodded fervently.

"Tell me why."

"Well… I'm having a bad day," Newton said with a pouty face. "So I think I deserve someone to be nice to me."

Oh, that wasn't fair at all. Luckily Hermann had a response ready quickly. "It's not my job to be nice."

"Then what do I need to do to deserve it?" asked Newton. But before Hermann could say anything, he said, "Wait. I can't ask, I have to figure it out. Permission to move freely, sir?"

There was that sir again. That never stopped being delicious. "Granted," he said, having too put in too much effort to keep his voice firm. Newton's eyes scanned Hermann up and down slowly. His eyes hungry and hot.

And then Hermann couldn't take it. He grabbed Newton roughly by the face and pulled him in for a kiss that was more of a burning tangle of eager tongues.

After a few moments, Newton separated them. "I thought I had to show you I deserved it."

"Well I changed my mind. Now do shut up."

"Yes sir," Newton said with a grin and a silly salute as their mouths connected once more.


	8. Chapter 8

Newt knew there was a reason that Hermann never let him in his room. And he knew there was a reason that he didn't get uncomfortable when people talked about sex, even though he seemed like the type. There also had to be a reason he woke up hard fairly often even when he seemed to have no libido, and a reason that sometimes his voice would lapse into this tone that sounded both sensual and commanding at the same time, one Newt had never been able to refuse even if he wanted to.

But somehow he'd never put together the pieces.

It was just… this was fucking Hermann. Dresses like a grandpa and does math for fun Hermann. Hermann who hates messes, and loud noises, and fun.

And apparently he's a secret kink master.

It made no sense at all… but somehow it made all the sense in the world. Not because it was Hermann, but because Newt had always been a natural sub in the sheets, so obviously Hermann was a natural Dom. It had gotten to the point that Newt had trouble being surprised that he found another secret similarity between the two of them. Sometimes… God, this was corny as shit, but sometimes he felt like they were sorta made for each other.

Hermann took Newt by the hand and wasn't gentle when he dragged him in the direction of the bedroom Newt never thought he'd see. But somehow, it didn't scare him the way it would if someone else did it. Hermann was obviously in complete control of himself, and, like he said, wasn't working off of anger.

And strange as it seemed, he trusted Hermann completely. The rolling in his stomach from nerves was pleasant. He couldn't wait to see what would happen next.

He saw the reason Hermann hid his room quickly. Hermann, of course, didn't keep all of his toys sitting out or anything. But there were a few things that Newt would have noticed had he come in.

The bed had black cuffs sticking out from under the mattress, first off, for bondage. There was a stray condom on the bedside table. There was a rope in the corner. The lamp he had was covered in a red lampshade, which was clearly mood lighting.

All of it, to someone else, might go unnoticed. But Hermann probably suspected that with Newt's superior-to-average intelligence, he'd have put two and two together. He was wrong about that, of course—because it was fucking Hermann, so Newt would have thought of some other, more innocent explanation for those things. The rope was for hauling things, he just liked red light, the black cuffs were so he stayed perfectly stationary as he slept, the condom was to keep his bananas clean. Anything but the truth—because this is Hermann Fucking Gottlieb.

But now, the moment they entered the room Newt was shoved onto the bed—which was, as he suspected, bigger than his own—and Hermann quickly climbed on top of him. He was amazingly graceful, considering his limp when walking. Like Yoda. The dude can't walk more than .01 miles an hour, but he can jump seven feet in the air easy peasy. Hermann couldn't walk without limping, but he could jump on top of you with the full intention of fucking your brains out without breaking a sweat.

It was fuckin' unreal, to tell the truth. How the hell had Newt gotten here? From getting dumped by an asshole who beat the shit out of him for scratching his leather to getting his kink on with his stuffy roommate who was actually kind of amazing and perfect when he put his mind to it.

Currently, Newt's hands were being held over his head by Hermann as he kissed him fiercely.

Hermann backed away. "Do you have a safe word?"

Honestly, nobody had ever asked him that before. His other Doms didn't care what he didn't want. So he took too long to answer.

"You don't then. You could use my usual."

"What's that?"

"Pythagorean."

Newt barked out a laugh. "Really?"

This would usually be the part where Hermann would look stuffily indignant and roll his eyes, but he wasn't quite normal Hermann at the moment. His eyes narrowed. "Are you making fun of me, Newton?" he asked dangerously.

Newt never got how that tone of voice could make him nervous, make him melt, and make his abdomen clench in arousal all at the same time.

Then again, most of the time it was more than half nervous and the rest arousal, sans any sentimentality. This was definitely different. In, like, the best way possible ever.

"No, not making fun of you. Sir."

"I thought not. Now would you like to use that safe word, or choose another?"

"That one's fine," he squeaked. "Sir." He didn't plan to use it anyway, not unless he got really freaked out by something.

Hermann got off. "Then take off all that," he said, gesturing to basically all of Newt. Newt stood up, nearly falling over in his haste to obey, and started stripping off his clothing quickly.

"Slower," Hermann said evenly.

Newt realized then that this was supposed to be like a strip tease. Unfortunately, he wasn't sexy in the slightest, so Hermann was going to be disappointed… or so he thought. As he slowly loosened his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, undid his jeans, removed his boots, Hermann kept his eyes on him intently, eyes sweeping over every inch of him and then going again.

He was down to his socks and his boxers and he stopped.

"Yes?" Hermann prompted. Clearly indicating he meant to remove everything.

So Newt hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers and pushed them down, letting them fall to the floor. He stepped out of them, not getting the chance to feel self-conscious—because how could you when someone's looking at you like that?

He was going to bend down to get his socks too, but Hermann stood then, looking him in the eyes as he approached him and then grabbed his cock. Newt hadn't been expecting it, so what came out of his mouth was somewhere between a gasp and a moan.

"Tell me precisely what you're thinking at this exact moment."

"I… I'm thinking that…" He knew he was supposed to say what he was thinking, but what part? The kinky aroused part or the sentimental part that wasn't calling quite so much attention to itself at the moment? He knew he couldn't think for too long though, so he decided, like he did almost all the time in his life, that word vomit would do. "That I'm pretty sure I've wanted you for a long time, but I never said it because I never thought there was any way you could want me too. And that I don't think I've ever been this turned on in my whole damn life and you haven't even done anything yet. And that I really hope this isn't just sex, because I might actually fall in love with you if I'm not careful. And that you're fuckin' hot, man. Like shit. And also that if you don't start moving your hand or something I might die."

Yeah, maybe he should have thought a few of those things through before saying them. But too late now.

In answer, Hermann grabbed his chin roughly to kiss him, and as he did so he slowly, tantalizingly, started to stroke the dick that was still in his hand. Newt hummed a moan into his mouth.

Hermann backed away and said, "As this is our first time together, I will afford you a few liberties that I likely won't in the future."

The future. Which totally implied this was gonna happen again. Awesome.

"So tell me what you want."

"I don't know what you have."

"Oh, get creative. I have many toys to play with, darling."

He took a moment to shudder at the dangerous tone of voice, the purr when he said 'darling', before he said, "I… I like…"

Somehow, Hermann was a mind reader right now, because he said, "Don't be concerned you will say something I'll find strange."

"I…" Hermann gave a nearly painful tug at Newt's cock that made his nervous filter turn off—which meant he probably intended for that to happen. "All I've ever used is a flogger, a whip, and a crop."

"And which did you prefer?"

"Probably the flogger," he said.

His lips curled into a smile that was only a little evil. "Perrrfect."

Newt was shoved back down onto the bed and, before he could even register it, his arms were cuffed to the edges of the bed, and then his feet, leaving him spread eagle on the bed, utterly exposed.

Then there was a blindfold over his eyes.

Oh, he'd never done this before. He immediately found that the lack of vision, of having no idea what was going to happen next, was exhilarating, and he was only getting more and more aroused, his erection becoming actually painful because he just really needed Hermann.

Damn. He never thought he'd think that.

He found himself straining his ears to try to at least hear what Hermann was about to do. But then Hermann, curse him, turned on some quiet music, and it was enough to make it impossible to hear anything else he did. Newt found himself jumping at the smallest sounds, not knowing what things were just a creak in the wall and what were Hermann descending on him. You'd think that would be scary, but Newt totally didn't think so. It was pretty much the sexiest thing he'd ever experienced and it wouldn't be long before Newt was begging for Hermann to have some mercy and fuck the brains out of him.

It was two long minutes full of near painful anticipation before Newt finally said, "Are you just watching me freak out and chuckling to yourself?"

The second he finished his sentence, there was the harsh sting on his thigh as the many chords of the flogger hit him. He gasped in a breath and he was definitely to a point that even real pain like this just turned into pleasure.

"I don't believe I told you that you were allowed to speak."

Newt was going to say sorry, but realized that talking was what got him in trouble in the first place, so he kept his mouth resolutely shut. At any time, he hated silence, but this silence, where he had no idea where Hermann was or what he was going to do next, was electrifying.

"Good," Hermann hummed, and then the flogger was back, but it was tickling down his stomach, over his cock. He groaned quietly and tried to lean up into the contact.

The flogger flicked down again, but not hard like a punishment this time. Most of it hit his thigh again, but just a few found his cock and he let out a, "Oh, fuck," before biting his tongue.

"Oh, do you like that, Newton?"

"Y—y—yes sir," he said, surprised he was even able to get words out at all. "Please, sir, I need you."

"Need?" Hermann asked in interest.

"Yes, need!"

The bed creaked slightly as Hermann got up on the bed, in between Newt's legs. His hands found either side of Newt's head. Newt felt Hermann lean over him. "Need me to do what?"

"Anything," he said quickly.

"No, I want you to tell me what you want. In as graphic of terms as you can think of."

Newt took a few deep breaths, and the flogger was tickling against his chest as Hermann waited for an answer, running down his hipbone, over his cock, back up his abdomen…

"Well, Mr. Geiszler?"

He never thought it would be hot for Hermann to call him that, but suddenly it was. "I—I can't think when you're doing that."

"I don't want you to think, I want you to tell me what you need." The flogger flicked playfully on his thigh and Newt gasped, not expecting it.

"I need—" he said quickly, "I need you to fuck me in my ass. Hard. I want it to hurt tomorrow. So I remember that you were there. Sir."

Hermann's hum of satisfaction showed that he liked that answer.

"Oh, you don't want me to prepare you at all?" Hermann asked, running a finger over his opening.

"I—uh—maybe a little. Please. Sir."

Hermann gave a deep, harsh chuckle, and Newt really wasn't sure if he'd even heard Hermann laugh before, but god it was sexy.

"Please," he repeated. "Please."

"Oh, I'll oblige, love, if you do something for me first. Are you willing to do that?" It was sarcastic, of course, because he probably would have gotten hit for saying no, but that didn't affect Newt's answer.

"Anything," he said before even thinking. It was true though.

He swore Hermann was half feline or something because he was honest-to-fucking-God purring. Newt knew what Hermann was doing before he did it from the way his body moved, his knees right under his spread out arms. The tip of a leaking cock was against Newt's lips and he immediately opened his mouth to admit it. He tried to get creative with his tongue—the better he did, the better he got fucked, right?—and moved his head up and down as best as he could with the little space he had, Hermann thrusting into his throat. There was a hard hand in Newt's hair, gripping it tight. He tugged it and Newt moaned around Hermann's dick, which only made Hermann tug again.

Hermann took himself out of Newt's mouth quickly, and Newt actually whimpered at the loss.

But then barely a few seconds later, fingers slathered in slightly cold lube found his opening again, and he couldn't quite be upset.

He teased at it, barely inserting a finger and then taking it back out again, rubbing against the skin, grazing the flogger over his skin and letting it bite at him at random intervals so Newt never knew when to expect it to strike. It would have been tantalizing at any time, but with his limbs tied taut, completely blind, it was too good.

"Please, please, please," he was whimpering after a few minutes of it. He needed something inside him.

In response, there were lips at his hip, which gave a not-so-gentle bite. Newt cried out.

There was a tongue that ran all the way up his shaft, and he was embarrassed at the volume of his moan, so he bit his lip.

A hard hit from the flogger. "No. Don't stop yourself. I want you to scream for me. Understood?"

He nodded, and then got another hit.

"Yes sir!" he yelped.

Then, with motions too quick to really follow in his state, the fingers were gone, and then Hermann was gone for a few moments, and then the fingers were quickly replaced with something much larger. It was uncomfortable, even painful at first, but Hermann didn't wait for him to adjust before starting to assail him with hard, fast thrusts, and the pain was gone in only a few seconds, morphing into ecstasy nearly too intense to handle.

He followed Hermann's instructions by not trying to keep himself quiet as he was ravaged. Sometimes he just cursed (in English or in German), or he moaned, or sometimes he yelled Hermann's name. Hermann seemed to like that best.

"I need to come!" Newt finally declared.

Fingers clasped around his throat, only just barely squeezing, but he was already light-headed enough that it made him feel a bit giddy. "Not until I say."

"Please," Newt said. "I need you—you to—"

"To what?"

How did he sound so damn calm? It was almost infuriating.

Newt was shaking. But for once, not because he was scared. He'd never felt less scared in his life.

"If you need something, you have to tell me, Newton."

Still keeping up the same merciless pace. With him being slammed into at a speed he couldn't even mentally follow right now, and the fingers around his throat, and the other hand with fingers digging into his hip, and just with everything, he couldn't think. How was he supposed to talk? In fact, he thought that the whimpering coming out of his mouth sounded more tortured than aroused, even though he was feeling much more aroused than tortured.

Either that or so aroused that it was actually torture.

"You have your safe word if you need it," Hermann said, and only a smidgeon of his actual concern leaked into his voice. It was at that point that he realized that Hermann was not calm, and was not uncaring of Newt's state, he was just in complete control of himself. Control that he was only just barely keeping in place.

"I don't need it," Newt managed to breathe out. "But if I don't come soon, I might."

"Then tell me what you need."

"You to stroke—stroke my dick. Please. Let me come. Please, sir."

The hand on his throat eased away, and then those same fingers were on his cock, working it as fast as he was being pounded into.

"Oh god—fuck—shit—holy—mein Gott—Hermann…"

His vision literally went white for a moment, even with a blindfold over his eyes making everything black, as he came hard with a shout. A few more pumps of Hermann inside him and he came too, but Hermann stayed inside, and now Newt could hear his heavy, ragged breathing.

After a moment, his cuffs were carefully removed from his wrists and ankles, and then his blindfold from his eyes. He didn't move though, just let his eyes follow Hermann as he stood up, now naked—though Newt hadn't seen or heard him removing his clothes—as he walked towards his desk.

Newt felt stupid for thinking it, but Hermann was sort of beautiful. Maybe other people wouldn't think so, with being really skinny and with some pretty major scarring all down his right hip and leg, but Newt felt like he could look at the guy forever. He watched too intently as Hermann removed the condom from his softening penis, wrapping it carefully in a tissue and putting it in the trash, then wiping his hand and belly off with a towel that he deposited into a laundry basket. Only then did Hermann come back.

"Are you okay, Newton?" he asked, his voice gentle.

"Uh—I—yeah—dude—dude, I'm fuckin' great."

Hermann hazarded a little smile. "You're shaking. And I think those are tears," he added, wiping a thumb beneath Newt's eyes.

"It's good shaking. And crying," he added, embarrassedly wiping at his eyes.

"Then kindly move aside a bit so I can join you," Hermann said.

"After that, you're back to being polite?" Newt asked with a grin, and Hermann rolled his eyes as Newt managed to move a bit so Hermann could lay beside him on the left side of the bed like he usually did.

And Newt was so damn exhausted—considering the rest of his pretty horrible day mixed with basically the best, most tiring sex ever to exist—that he fell asleep barely a moment later with Hermann slowly rubbing his arm.


	9. Chapter 9

Even after many fantasies that were very much like what he'd just experienced, Hermann had never honestly been under the impression any of it might actually happen. He and Newton? It just made no sense. The two of them could hardly mesh as friends, let alone as… well, something more.

But as Newton snored beside him—something Hermann had heard a million times, but this time it was so very different—it all seemed so simple. Of course the two of them were meant to be this way. Maybe they always had been.

He shook his head just barely. Sure, Newton had said that he hadn't wanted this to only be sex, but had he really meant it?

I might actually fall in love with you if I'm not careful.

He didn't mean that, did he?

And even beyond that, Hermann didn't want him to mean it… right?

He had trouble thinking too hard on it, because he felt completely content at the moment. After sexual escapades was pretty much the only time Hermann's mind slowed down, stopped trying to solve problems. He just reveled in the time he spent with another person—the only way he knew how to get close to anyone, because somehow sex was so much easier than a true emotional bond—and he relaxed.

Newton had been asleep for a long time. Hermann had slept too, for a few hours, and then he'd woken up and gotten too preoccupied listening to Newton breathe. It wasn't different from usual, not really, but he somehow felt like it was. Like even the slow inhale and exhale were his. He'd never felt so possessive before—and that was saying something, because his Dominant nature often made him possessive of his pets. But Newton was so much more than a pet. And it scared him a little to think it. But in his own mind, it was stupid to deny it.

"You're thinkin' hard," Newton said, nearly slurring.

"You're awake," said Hermann.

"Yeah, probably I heard the cogs in your head."

He ignored the comment, in a much better mood than usual and thus willing to deal with Newton's silly sense of humour without disdain.

"That was… Holy shit, Hermann. You… just wow."

"Should I be flattered that I managed to cause a genius-level scientist to be unable to form a coherent sentence?"

"Aw, am I a genius?"

"Oh, shut up."

Newton cuddled into his side, and Hermann didn't even notice himself wrapping his arms around the other man until he'd already done it. He let his fingers tickle up and down Newton's spine.

"Herms… thank you."

"Are you thanking me for the intercourse? Because I was told once not to do that."

It had been quite embarrassing, actually, the first time he thanked Vanessa for sex and she said that it was odd to do so. Newton seemed more aware of social constructs like that, however, so he figured he had meant something else.

He was right. "No, not that. Though that too, I guess… No, thanks for… I dunno, everything. Keeping me from having nightmares. Showing me the real world of BDSM," he added with a misty, mocking voice.

Hermann smirked, but said seriously, "If you are going to mock me, maybe that'll be the only glimpse you'll see."

"Oh, don't be like that, Herms. You liked it just as much as I did. You'll never be able to give me up. I'm like a drug."

"You're quite full of yourself, you know."

"Nah, it's just fun to pretend to be."

It was quiet for a long moment.

"Hermann, is it okay if I honestly think I'm in love with you?"

It was so sudden, Hermann didn't know what to do with the words at first. But he felt his own body stiffen in surprise as he froze in place.

He'd never been told that before.

He'd never wanted to hear it.

And he didn't understand why hearing it now was like the most beautiful set of words he'd ever heard strung together.

Newton took the silence as a bad thing. "Sorry, I should think before I talk," he muttered, and Hermann registered the disappointment in his voice with a deep frown before pulling back and taking Newton's chin, forcing him to look him in the eye.

"I didn't say anything. Give me a moment to think, will you?"

"About what?"

Hermann rolled his eyes. "Whether you're too much of an idiot for me to love back."

Newton's eyes widened a little before a smile threatened the corners of his lips.

Hermann had no idea when he'd fallen for Newton Geiszler.

They used to bother one another every hour of the day.

They used to only be able to bond by eating the same meal together.

Then they shared a bed to keep Newton sleeping.

And then they slept together (in the more biblical sense, that is).

And here they were, and Hermann was starting to honestly wonder if he'd loved Newton from the very start.

But probably he'd never have even figured it out had he never stopped Newton from having nightmares.

So maybe triggering his terrible memories had actually been an act of fate, in the end.

How odd the world was sometimes.


End file.
